


i still reach for you

by cordsycords



Category: L.A. By Night (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 12:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19109398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordsycords/pseuds/cordsycords
Summary: Chloe and Jasper meet again.(Written before 2x13 aired)





	i still reach for you

His fingertips are snowflakes against her skin, cold and fleeting as he looks her over, piercing blue eyes flitting every which way. She can't meet them, can't look up from where she can grey black-veined skin disappearing under that stupid hoodie of his. She's been the focus of his attention before, though perhaps in a different context then this, he's always been very intense when focused, it was one of her favourite things about him, but this feels different. She feels like a deer in headlights, or perhaps prey just waiting for a predator to pounce on her and dig its teeth into her neck, an all-too-appropriate metaphor.

His finger traces her collarbone, cold and hard as marble, and a gasp escapes her lips. She half expects him to gasp in return, can nearly recount the sound of it in her mind, but he remains quiet. She is intimately aware what he is looking for, bruises along her neck, rings of fatigue around her eyes, she had seen the symptoms herself and was never naive enough to not know what had caused them. Yes, she had lived the past three months in the very near presence of vampires, but they were never the ones doing the drinking around her.

He traces her exposed collarbone and she near shivers when his fingertip goes beneath the neckline of her blouse. It's what pushes her over the edge and she slaps his hand away. The touch is too familiar, to like what they once were, when they shrunk the world down until it was only the two of them and nothing else mattered. She doubts the strike hurt him in any way, but he pulls away from her and stands at rest with both of his hands in his pockets.

“Chloe,” Jasper starts, stopping as soon as he sees a wince of pain cross her face. She can still hear _him_ through the gnarled quality of his voice, and if she can force herself to _just look up for fuck's sake_ she'd still see him under the grey skin and the pointed ears. His eyes are still that stupid shade of blue that he used to hide behind glasses with thick black-rimmed frames. She assumes that he doesn't need those anymore. She wonders if he kept them anyway.

“Chloe,” he repeats. She holds up her hand, and he quiets once more.

“Just… give me a second Jas,” she says, holding up a finger as she takes a large breath. Figures that she chooses _now_ to have the panic attack that's been brewing under her skin since he first made his presence known to her. He flinches at her old nickname for him but he doesn't look away. She needs him to look away, but he doesn't even move an inch, so she turns around instead, hand on her forehead as she slowly breaks down. She looks down the hallway to see someone peeking around the corner, one of the people who he showed up with, the girl in the red leather jacket, who darts away as soon as Chloe meets her eyes.

It's nice to see he has friends and terrible all at the same time. It makes her wonder how easy it was for him to move on. And now she's crying, the first time she's allowed herself to cry in a month. She feels so cold, shivers creeping up and down her skin as she hunches over, crossing her arms over her chest to stop the shaking. She sobs, breathing in and out in short, halting breaths. She can still feel him staring at the back of her neck.

“Chloe,” he says, and this time he stops because he doesn't know what else to say, which is strange for him. He always knew what to say when she was having a shitty day.

“Five years, Jas,” she says between each breath, reaching up a hand to rub at her eyes.

He sighs, “I know.”

“Why now?”

“I just- I didn't think- This didn't turn out how I had originally planned.”

“Obviously,” she mutters.

“I just wanted you to move on. Be happy with… whatever his name was.”

She almost smiles. He was never good with names. It almost feels as if nothing has changed, “It's almost like you don't me at all.” 

She knows that has to hurt. It hurts her to say it because even when it felt like she knew nothing; like she was still a naive little girl from some bumfuck town trying to make it somewhere, she still knew him. And he knew her in return. He knew everything.

He's quiet for a long time. A minute, at least. He was always careful with his words, always trying to find the right thing to say. But perhaps he realizes there’s nothing to say here. She hears him shuffle on his feet behind her before he moves into the corner of her vision, tiptoeing around and watching her reaction until he stands in front of her once more. She still can’t meet his gaze, and she half expects him to just walk away, but instead, she sees his hand reach out to hers. His fingernails are long and jagged, completely unlike when they were together and he used to incessantly bite his nails till they bled. She used to paint them for him, in girly colours that sparkled and clashed with everything he wore. But he stopped biting them. And he still let her paint his nails.

He grabs her hand, engulfing it in cold, before slowly bringing it up to his lips, brushing them against her knuckles. She takes a shaking breath and finally looks up into his eyes. They’re so familiar, compared the rest of him, piercing bright blue and intense. She feels frozen in place, looking at them and the tracks of crimson blood streaking from them down his cheeks. There’s nothing left but blood, Fiona had once told her. Nothing left to cry either, apparently.

All of a sudden her attention shifts, her senses become hyper-focused on the blood trailing down his cheeks. A large drop of it exits the corner of his eye, falling down his cheek before it goes to drop off his chin. She stops it with the tip of her finger, the first time she's touched him in five years, it gathers on her finger, and she can't stop staring at it until she brings it to her lips. She sighs as she licks it clean, Fiona's blood always burned on the way down, like knocking back a shot of whiskey, but Jasper's blood tastes sweet as honey and it warms her as she swallows it.

His growl rips through the room.


End file.
